


"I'm going to be sick..."

by Lypreila



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I had to do it, M/M, Mostly background for the others, Overwatch - Freeform, PTSD, Tumblr Prompt, sad Mercy is sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 10:19:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8620726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lypreila/pseuds/Lypreila
Summary: From a prompt on Tumblr, courtesy of @jawsandbones .  Mercy tries to remember that she is not a miracle worker.  That she can not save everyone, all the time.  Objectivly, she knows this to be true.  Practically, however, she has trouble believing it.  A little hurt/comfort fic with light angst.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jawsandbones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jawsandbones/gifts).



The town was small, and stank of so much death that even Genji’s visor could not filter it out. Their strike team, come too late, moved through the Andean village quietly, Winston and Reinhardt speaking in subdued whispers while Hanzo, on his first mission with them, and McCree stood quietly together, eyes unable to escape the devastation surrounding them. It should’ve been simple - stop a shipment of arms destined for violent rebels, detain them, call the army, and vanish before they showed up. 

 

But they had been too late for this small place, a isolated outpost of humans and omnics that sat in the path of the rebels. The few buildings there were burned to the ground, and columns of smoke rose lazily into the night sky, and coals still glowed in places, casting shadows that seemed to shift and writhe, much as the dead at his feet probably had in their last moments. Genji looked up when he heard Reinhardt walk over to the rest of them, sudden concern shading his face. 

 

“Where is Dr. Ziegler?” 

They all straightened, Jesse and Genji exchanging a look before they split off, spreading out in an attempt to locate their misplaced medic. She had been with them when they came into the outskirts, adaptive camouflage darkening the threads of the Valkyrie suit, moving with a quiet grace in between McCree and Winston. But then they had found the town, and the piles of dead, children clutched in the arms of their mothers, Omnic and human bodies twisted and broken. 

 

It didn’t take them long to find her, on her knees in the town square, resembling nothing so much an an angel kneeling among the filth of the world, Caduceus staff abandoned at her side. Jesse retrieved the staff as Reinhardt offered his hand to Mercy, allowing her to pull herself up. The latter day cowboy smiled sadly, squeezing one shoulder as he pressed her staff on her. Long fingers gripped it desperately, knuckles turning white with tension as something akin to a smile, almost too brief to see, flickered across her lips. 

 

They caught the rebels, of course, as Genji had known they would, but it was easy to see that it brought Mercy no joy. She was quiet the whole ride back, As Jesse and Hanzo compared notes on difficult shots, as Winston and Reinhardt debated philosophy, Genji sat across from Mercy, folded into the lotus position, watching the shadows grow beneath her eyes as she refused to sleep, watching as she practically fled upon landing. 

 

Two days passed, busy with de-briefs and new faces. Two days in which he didn’t see Dr. Ziegler, and in which no one seemed to think it unusual. Genji was kept busy with the arrival of Zenyatta, making introductions and settling his master into the barracks. Finally Zenyatta smiled at him, shooing him away with gesture, claiming he wanted to speak to Hanzo of something (and Genji was glad that he wouldn’t be there for that conversation). His feet quickly set themselves along a familiar path, covering the distance to the medical wing quickly. It was… emptier than he remembered. 

 

“Dr. Ziegler isn’t here, Mr. Shimada.” 

 

It was an assistant, Dakota he seemed to recall them being called, hair buzzed close on one side, a braid falling down the other, clipboard clutched in their hands. 

 

“We haven’t seen her since the Peru op. She asked to be left alone.” 

 

The cyborg offered a nod, and made his way upstairs, brushing off those who would speak to him. Finally he stood before her door, and rapped his fist against the metal. 

 

Silence. 

 

He knocked again, the dull sound echoing in the quiet corridor. 

 

Silence. 

 

With a frustrated huff, the cyborg touched the screen at the edge of the door, bringing up an override screen. 

 

“Override, Shimada, G. Code 025-Zed3Alpha.”

 

When he entered her room, it took his visor a second to adjust to the darkness, and what he saw once it finally did saddened him to no end. Mercy was nearly indistinguishable from the heap of blankets in which she was curled up, a dim pile that took up one corner of the rather spacious room. Cold fingers of sorrow reached out to squeeze his still very human heart, and his breathing faltered for a moment. A sick feeling spread through his nerves, artificial ones conducting the feeling just as accurately as the real. 

 

“Angela?”

 

Her name came out hoarse. He took one step in. Two. She shifted, curling in on herself, blonde hair falling to hide her face from him. 

 

“Please, Genji. I am not fit for company.” 

 

He nodded, but lowered himself into her desk chair anyway. 

 

“You are thinking of the village in Peru?” 

 

“.....yes.” 

 

He watched her hands, fingers clenching around a blanket convulsively, hands normally so steady and careful betraying a slight tremor. 

 

“I can think of little else.” 

 

“It was not your fault, Angela.” 

 

She turned, messy hair flying, angry eyes rimmed with shadows seeking out his own. Genji thumbed the catch on his visor, meeting her gaze without the buffer between them. 

 

“I am aware of that, Genji! I know there was not a thing we could’ve done with the information and time we had. But that doesn’t stop…. It doesn’t matter.”

 

He listens as she rages, spilling out all that she’d kept to herself since the mission, words running into each other and tears spilling down her face. When hiccups started breaking through, and her breathing grew erratic, he slid from the chair to kneel besides her, one hand massaging small circles into her back. 

 

“I…” she gasped wetly, tears still flowing fast, “I think I’m going to be sick.”

 

He had her in his arms in a moment, moving quickly to the bathroom, resting her gently on her knees in front of the toilet. The retching shook her frame, but almost nothing came up, till she finally leaned away, one hand groping for the glass of water on the sink. Genji handed it to her wordlessly, and when she was done he handed her the mouthwash. He remembered how unpleasant this was, having spent many a hungover morning bowing to the porcelain god. At last she finished, and struggled to rise from the floor. Genji circled his arms around her, leading her back towards the nest of blankets. They settled in together, the doctor and the cyborg, wrapped around each other, giving and receiving comfort in turns. 

 

“I know it was not my fault. But telling myself that doesn’t always help. I am so tired of war. I can not work miracles….” 

 

“None of us can, Angela. We are only able to do what little we can, and hope for less suffering tomorrow than we had to endure today.” 

 

She sighed, a weary sound. 

 

“Yes. And Genji, thank you. You have no reason to put up with my maudlin weeping.” 

 

“Angela, you gave me my life.” 

 

She straightened up, face serious, holding his eyes with a sad gaze. Her hands slid inside his helmet, calloused fingers ghosting lightly over his scars. A sigh shuddered from him.   
“Your life is yours to live Genji. There is no need for reciprocity.” 

 

He placed his hand over her own, pulling it away and pressing his lips gently to the back. 

 

“Yes. And I live it here. With my friends - and with you. I would have it no other way. So let go of any guilt you may feel, Angela. There is no need for it.”

 

When she smiled it warmed his heart, and he pulled her closer, casting one hand gently through her blonde locks, smoothing them away from her face till she drifted into an untroubled sleep. When Jesse found them there hours later, he gave Genji a small smile, then left, voice locking the door behind him. He figured they could both use the rest. 

 

Out in the hall he ran into the elder Shimada brother, glowering and brooding as was usual for him. 

 

“You there, where is my brother?”

 

Jesse grinned at him, clapping the uncomfortable archer on the shoulder. 

 

“He’s doing something important at the moment. C’mon, Hanzo. I can’t believe Genji never showed you the roof. It’s got views for miles.” 

 

Hanzo Shimada raised a brow. His brother, doing something important? Unlikely. But, watching as the cowboy beamed a smile his way, he figured it didn’t much matter. Silently he fell into step, the pair making their way up to the roof to enjoy the sunset.


End file.
